Moves
by BensonKnowsBest
Summary: Set in the aftermath of "Pursuit" and the death of Sonya Paxton, Olivia Benson is feeling particularly drained by the demands of her job and the loss of a colleague. Her partner and best friend wants to take her pain away. But does he have the right moves?
1. Chapter 1

Olivia sat at her desk with her head in her hands, trying to concentrate on the paperwork in front of her. As day slipped into evening, the squad room was dimly lit only by a few scattered desk lamps, including the one on her desk. She sighed deeply, part in exhaustion, part in frustration that she simply couldn't seem to focus through eyes clouded by the events of the day.

She couldn't shake the image of Sonya Paxton dying in her arms. She'd felt her friend's life slip away, tinged with pride that she had managed to mark her killer. There had simply been too much loss in her time at SVU. And it seemed to be hitting closer to home these days.

As she left the bathroom, the site of Sonya's murder, there was only one face she had wanted to see, and there he was. There was Elliot. He was her candle in the window, her light in the storm, and she slipped so naturally into his embrace, his safe place. He didn't overthink it, he just did what he felt, holding her close, bathed in regret that he hadn't been there to help her or Sonya.

But as she always did with Elliot, she was reluctant to show him all her cards. There was no reason she shouldn't, but somehow she always wanted him to think she was strong enough to handle herself. Just like she hadn't told him about Sealview. But today, as was the case then, he knew.

"_I'm okay," she had told him._

"_Like hell you are," his response. _

He could see the tears in her eyes, the pain in her face and knew his partner and best friend well enough to clearly recognize that she was anything but alright. He held her close, wanted to hold her longer and closer, but he had to let her go, let her process her pain her way.

Olivia clicked her pen and dropped it to the desk in frustration. Just then Elliot entered the squad room. He eyed her as he pulled off his coat and scarf. He knew she would be here and maybe, just maybe, that's why he had come back too.

"Liv, you don't need to be here. You've been through too much today. Go home."

But she wanted to be anywhere but home. At least here, with the noise and distractions, she could lure her mind away from the tragic events of the day and busy herself with paperwork.

She sat back in her chair and looked at him, not saying a word. She was too tired to speak, and looking into his eyes gave her comfort. In many ways, they were polar opposites, yet reflections of one another.

"I know. You're right. I guess I've been avoiding it."

He approached her as she sat in her desk chair. He came up beside her and slid his hand to the side of her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. He looked long and hard at her. He could still see the smudgy red stains from her tears under her tired eyes. He wanted to take it all away, take it on himself.

"Are you okay? Really okay?" he asked as continued to look into her eyes.

"I'm trying to be," she said, hanging her hand on his wrist that embraced her face and looking back at him. She felt somewhat shy because of his proximity, his contact. Olivia Benson was anything but shy, but with Elliott this close to her exhaustion, and in her skin-deep emotional state, she may as well have been stripped bare.

The moment was long. She needed him, but he wasn't hers to need. Finally she broke his gaze.

"Goodnight, El," she said softly, rising from her chair, clicking off her desk lamp and strolling toward the elevator with her coat over her shoulder.

He watched after her, wanted to pull her back and heal her. But he let her go … for now.


	2. Chapter 2

Olivia slipped into her apartment with a sigh. She hung up her coat and headed straight into the bedroom. She needed to get out of these clothes, still stained with Sonya's blood. She considered whether to toss her blouse and slacks into the laundry or into the garbage. Could she really wear these clothes again? But how could she discard Sonya so easily? Too challenged by the decision, she simply left them in a lump in the corner of her room.

Left in only her underwear, she stepped into the bathroom and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She could see what Elliot had seen, her tear-stained skin and tired eyes. She was so damn tired but knew sleep would not come tonight.

The silence in her apartment was unsettling. All but for the soft ticking of a wall clock in the livingroom and the white noise whir of the heating system, the place was painfully quiet. These ambient noises weren't nearly enough to drown out her thoughts.

Gripping the sides of her sink, she lowered her head and let her mind wander. What could she do to make this night go faster, lift the lump in her throat, lighten the load on her heart? How could she get out of here without actually leaving?

Him.

She thought of his firm embrace, his caring eyes, his safe place. How could she possibly ask him to save her … again. She sighed and slowly turned to shuffle back into her bedroom. To the dresser. To her cell phone.

She picked it up, swiped the screen to life and hesitantly began a text message.

"Are you still at work?" Despite her better thoughts, she let her thumb tap the "send" button. The anxiety came almost immediately.

But so did the soft ping from her phone.

"About to pack it in. What's up?"

She resonated over her next words. She'd be selfish to ask him to comfort her, to keep her company. But she also knew that he would never refuse. He was her safe haven.

"You hungry?"

There, she'd sent it.

Another ping and the light from her iPhone interrupted her overanalysis of her actions.

"I could eat. How about I bring something?"

Though worry continued to cloud her face, her heart smiled a little. Rather than lamenting over the long night ahead, she had something to look forward to, a diversion from herself.

"I would like that. Surprise me."

"K. See you in 30."

There. That wasn't so hard, was it? She set her phone down and retreated to the bathroom, ready now to wipe away the load of the day. She stood for a long time under the hot mist of her shower, wishing it could rinse cleanse her insides as it did her skin.

She slipped from the shower, refreshed at least on the outside, and retreated into worn jeans and a tailored T-shirt. Her olive-skinned bare feet were accented by the lavender nail polish on her toe nails. She brushed her hair and her teeth and stepped into a soft mist of body spray. It was a light scent to offset the heaviness of the day.

She no sooner got to the kitchen counter to open a bottle of wine than Elliot was ringing her buzzer. She buzzed him in and waited the minute – the endless minute – for him to knock on the door. She loved these times, when she would open the door and find him there, his raised eyebrows sometimes uncertain as to whether it was too late to stop by or cautiously wondering if he might be interrupting the life she surely must have.

But there was no hesitation in the face on the other side of the door tonight. He was a man on a mission. He may not be able to wipe away her pain, but dammit he could bring her dinner.

"Hey," she said, as he pushed into the doorway, led by a warm and fragrant bag from Natoli's, an Italian bistro not far from the precinct.

"Italian okay?" he asked. "I know you love their bread."

"Perfect," she smiled, happy that he had brought comfort food. Comfort was definitely on the menu tonight.

She cleared the dalliances of her life from her small kitchen table and poured them each a glass of red wine. Elliott stripped off his coat and suit jacket and joined her, unpacking the bag and laying out Natoli's infamous olive oil concoction for their bread. The aroma was scrumptious.

Elliott watched her eat without thinking. She was clearly hungry, and he reveled in the notion that the food he had brought was somehow bringing healing to her soul. Well … at least it was soothing her hunger.

"So what happened in Quantico?" she asked.

"Profiling seminars, new search options in CODIS," he explained. "It wasn't a complete waste."

He paused a moment, looking down at his plate. "But I should have been here," he said through a voice full of self-inflicted shame. "I shouldn't have left you with this situation."

"Elliott, how could you possibly know … how could any of us know … it would end up like this?"

She was right, but it didn't make him feel less guilty.

"Besides El, I am here. I am okay. It's Sonya who is gone."

Elliot and Sonya Paxton had never seen eye to eye. She reveled in provoking him and he could not resist biting at her every provocation. Yet she was passionate about her work and, for that, he had to respect her and mourn her.

"But you're _not_ okay, Liv."

She didn't say a word. She kept wrapping her linguini around her fork and refused to look at him. Why was he always fucking right? Bastard.


	3. Chapter 3

After they finished eating, they worked together to clean up. Elliot leaned against the kitchen counter with his back to it, his hands at his hips on the countertop. He watched as Olivia rinsed off the last dish and turned off the water. She turned to see him eyeing her intently. She felt herself blush and hoped he couldn't see it. But he didn't miss much when it came to her.

Elliot tilted his head slightly – a move out of the Bobby Goren playbook – as he tried to maintain eye contact with her, to look inside and see what she was trying so hard to hide from him. He reached over and placed his hand on her face – just as he had done at the office earlier that day – and gently rubbed her, his concern radiating from his fingers and her soft locks falling over his wrist.

Physical contact was not something they did, unless he was breaking her fall or she was holding back one of his outbursts towards a perp. So she was very, very aware of his hand there, even though it was such an innocent location. She felt the warmth of his fingers on her skin and the tingle within her that this man – the man she so desperately loved but so passionately denied herself – was touching her.

She looked down at her painted toenails. "There's that move again," she said quietly.

Elliot was perplexed for a moment as he registered her words. Then he caught her drift and smiled at her.

"Move, huh?"

She had to smile now too and she forced herself to meet his eyes. "Yeah. It's the one that comes next that scares me," she offered with a hint of flirtatiousness.

Elliot did not leave her gaze. He was fascinated by her playfulness. It was such a welcome change from her worry. Without moving his hand from her face, he leaned forward from the counter, turned to face her and took a step toward her. He could feel her flinch ever so slightly. With his right hand still on her cheek, he brought his left hand to her face as well, and looked deeply into her eyes. Her heart raced with both fear and hope as to his next move.

He brought his lips to her forehead and kissed her firmly and lovingly there. Then he leaned his forehead against hers and spoke softly. "This is the only move I'm gonna make tonight." Then he paused. "Tonight's not the night."

Her heart fluttered in her chest. Here they were, head to head, his lips just inches away, his hands cupping her face. Then he pulled her in and held her, just as he had in the hallway after Sonya's death. He pressed her head to his chest and placed a reassuring kiss on top of her head.

"I don't need to give you anything else to worry about," he said. He squeezed her again and reluctantly stepped back to look into her eyes.

She died 1,000 deaths as she looked up to meet his eyes. She processed the implications and got stuck on his words, _"Tonight's not the night." _But some night surely might be.

"Raincheck?" she offered tentatively.

He retreated from her. "Absolutely," he said, offering a sly smile and pacing toward the door. "Goodnight, Liv." And he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

As the door closed behind Elliot, Olivia wrapped her arms around herself and sighed deeply. She was so God damned tired but, at the same time, was flooded with a strange disappointment and tinge of regret. Her apartment and her body had felt so warm while he was here. As she turned to take their wine glasses from the coffee table, she caught a glimpse of his dark gray coat folded over the back of her couch.

She smiled at his forgetfulness and scooped up the coat, slyly inhaling his scent from the garment. Even though there was no one around to see her do it, she still felt like a schoolgirl with a crush on a quarterback. His scent meant a lot of things to her. On a primal level, he smelled like a man and she found it sexy. But he also smelled like protection and comfort, like a scented candle glowing on a holiday evening.

She'd spent so much time reveling in this piece of Elliot and what it meant to her, she had forgotten that he was out there on this cold February night without his coat. She grabbed her cell phone from the table by the door and dialed his number from her recent calls menu. He answered on the second ring.

"What's up Liv?" he answered.

"Are you almost home?"

"Just about to the Queensboro Bridge. Got another 20 minutes or so."

"You … um … left your coat here," she told him, still holding the coat against herself. "Hope you aren't freezing."

"Damn, looks like I did. Ah … would you mind bringing it tomorrow? I've got the heater kicking right now so I'm okay."

She wasn't sure what she'd wanted him to say, but somehow she felt disappointed by his proposed resolution to this problem.

"No problem."

"Thanks Liv." Then silence. "Goodnight."

"Night." Then she was flooded with panic. Just before he hung up, she managed to catch him. "El …?"

"Yep."

"I can bring it tomorrow." Several beats of silence as she mustered the courage to deliver the weighted words. "Or … um … maybe you could come back for it tonight …"

"Olivia …" he offered, her name laced with a sense of warning.

"The door is open, El."

Then she hung up before she lost her nerve.


	5. Chapter 5

Elliot was stunned. He stared for a moment at his phone screen, watching until Olivia's name faded as the screen went dim.

"_The door is open, El." _Her words pounded in his head, in his chest. So now the ball was in his court, the next move definitely up to him.

He pulled to the side of the road to gather his thoughts before making a decision that had nothing to do with a damned coat. If he went back, it was unlikely he would be leaving tonight, no matter how much restraint he tried to show. Olivia had to know. She had to know what this meant.

"_The door is open, El."_

Elliot took a deep breath and flicked on his left turn signal. He steered away from the curb and turned hard left, back toward Manhattan.

It was nearly midnight now, as he brought the sedan to silent stop a few paces from her apartment building. The light was still glowing in the window, beckoning him, welcoming him.

"_The door is open, El."_

He made it through the front door, up the elevator to the fourth floor, and down the hall toward her door. As he approached, he could see a crack of light leaking from her apartment into the hallway. She had gambled that he would come back – leaving her door ajar - and she had gambled right.

He considered knocking, but instead slowly creaked the door open wide enough to enter. He didn't see her immediately. But when he did, he froze. He was paralyzed by the moment, by the silent invitation.

Olivia was at the breakfast bar in her kitchen, topping off her glass of wine. Instead of the jeans and T-shirt in which he'd left her, she was now adorned in a knee-length silver blue satin robe with a sash at the waist. She glanced up from beneath her hair when she realized he'd entered the apartment. Pushing past the nervous anticipation, she smiled at him. She could see the trepidation in his body language.

"Elliot …" she slowly approached him just inside the doorway. "What happens here is your move. I don't want to you to do …"

"Liv, you've got to be sure." He stepped toward her and put his hands on her satin-covered hips, his eyes running across where the collar of her robe gathered at her breasts.

Baffled by where she'd found the courage, she blurted out, "I'm tired, El. I'm tired of fighting this. I am done with being afraid."

"I never meant to scare you."

"You don't scare me, Elliott. _This_ scares me. What this could do to us. But I want this. I want you."

He leaned in then and bridged the distance, drawing his lips to hers and tentatively running his mouth against hers. It was soft and exploratory, like they were dipping their toes in the water. But the water wasn't cold; it was warm and inviting.

"I like that move," she smiled.

"Liv, I'm not going to be able to stop, so if we start …"

"So don't stop," she said. As her eyes slipped closed and she brought her mouth back to his, she breathed, "Touch me, Elliot."


	6. Chapter 6

Oh. My. God.

"Where the hell did that come from, Benson?" Olivia said out loud.

She stood stunned, eyeing her cell phone after abruptly hanging up on Elliott.

This was either the biggest mistake of her life or …

_Dear God. _

What if he doesn't come back for his coat? His fucking coat. Or worse yet, what if he does come back?

_Way to put yourself out there._

Her adrenalin was pumping, and in great contrast to the way she had been feeling all day, she suddenly wasn't tired anymore. If by some chance he didn't think her completely out of line and did decide to return, she sure as shit better be ready. There would be time to overthink later.

She did the math in her head. The Queensboro Bridge back to Midtown. She had about 20 minutes to pull herself together and calm the fuck down. She scurried into her bedroom and eyed herself in the mirror. What was the point really? Elliott had seen her in every possible light. He knew what he was getting. That is, if he wanted it.

_Down, girl._

She opened her underwear drawer and reached toward the back for those lesser-worn pieces. She had told herself she was saving them for a rainy day, but in fact she had been saving them for this day. The day when everything she knew could change.

Blue. Blue seemed right and it seemed so Elliot. She chose a pair of navy blue satin panties adorned with lace. Sexy but not too flashy. So Elliot. She glanced over at her closet door and her eyes landed on her silver blue satin robe hanging from its hook. Perfect. Blue on blue would work.

_Don't overdo it. Keep it simple._

What about a bra? Was wearing one too much? Was not wearing one too little? She let her inventory make the decision. No bra to match the navy panties, so the robe would have to do. Besides, doesn't every 44-year-old working woman lounge around the house in such things? After all, he was just coming back for his coat.

_Keep telling yourself that, Benson._

She tidied her drawers, scooped the blood-stained clothes from earlier into the laundry and straightened her comforter.

_Dear God, why are you worried about the bed?_

Wine. More wine.

After quickly brushing her hair and one last glance in the mirror, she shuffled out of the bedroom and turned off the overhead light, leaving the room lit only by a dim bedside lamp.

She pulled a wine glass from the dish drainer and set it on the counter next to the half-empty bottle of wine left over from dinner.

_Breathe, Olivia. Breathe._

She glanced at the front door, which she'd left open a few inches. Just to the right of the door, on the coat rack of all places, was Elliot's coat. The unassuming garment was either a blessing or a curse. The next few minutes would decide.

Faintly in the distance, she heard the elevator ding. Could be anyone on her floor coming home at … Christ, 12:03 a.m. on a Wednesday. She quickly distracted herself by pouring a bit of wine into her glass and delivering a silent pep talk. That's when she heard footsteps outside her door. This was either the latest floral delivery in the history of the world, a serial killer, or the man who meant everything.

She looked up to see him then. As he slid sideways into the opening of her door, his eyes fell on his coat. But as quickly as he saw it, he looked away. He wasn't here for the damned coat.

His eyes found hers. She wasn't sure if it was possible for a man to look even better now than he did standing in the same spot only 45 minutes ago. But dear God he did. Although he seemed a little unsure of what to do with his body, his eyes were shining. She was done for.

_After all you made the poor man drive all the way back here … _

"Elliot …,"

_He needs to know he can take his coat and go. It's his move. It's been his move all along._

"What happens next is your move. I don't want you to do …"

But he cut her off then. He was way ahead of her. His hands were on her now. She could feel the heat through the robe.

"Liv, you have to be sure."

How could she possibly be sure? She knew what her body wanted, what her heart wanted, what her soul _needed_. But her mind knew this man was not hers. He could never be hers, and they may not survive this.

"I'm tired, El. I'm tired of fighting this. I'm done with being afraid."

_Where has the real Olivia Benson gone? _

"I never meant to scare you," he says.

_You don't seem scared of much tonight, Benson._

"You don't scare me Elliott. _This_ scares me. What this could do to us. But I want this. I want you."

_Well why don't you tell him how you __**really**__ feel?_

And then it happened, a moment 12 years in the making, a moment she had imagined in so many different ways in their time together. His lips touched hers in the softest, sweetest kiss.

"I like that move," she said, smiling through the shock of the moment.

"Liv, I'm not going to be able to stop, so if we start .."

_Well at least we're both being perfectly honest here._

"So don't stop."

_Dear God, Olivia, shut up already._

She drew his lips back to hers and, relinquishing the last bit of restraint she possessed, breathed, "Touch me, Elliot."


	7. Chapter 7

They were words he never thought he'd hear. Even if he had, he wouldn't have touched her. He wanted nothing more, but until now, he truly couldn't have.

So with the barriers crashing before them, Elliot pulled Olivia to him and succumbed to her kiss. The first one had been gentle, almost tentative. But now in between breaths, they tested the waters a little more. Without leaving her lips, he slipped out of his suit jacket and put his arms around her. He'd held her earlier today but not like this. Instead of just holding her in his arms, in his heart, he could now hold her with his whole body.

Olivia nestled into him and drew her arms up around his neck. His hands roamed her back, which below the silky satin, was smooth, too smooth. The thought was too much, so he forced himself to focus on her lips.

Olivia let out a soft moan as her lips parted and his tongue touched hers for the first time. It was soft and warm, not sloppy or invasive. They were learning each other.

Both were too immersed in the kiss to hear it at first. But the muffled sound of a cell phone persisted, jarring both back to reality.

Olivia sighed hard, reluctantly separating her mouth from his. "Please don't tell me they need us now, not after today."

Elliot kept his left arm around her while reaching into his pants pocket with his right. The name on the screen didn't scare him as much as he knew it would scare her.

"It's not Cragen. Just gimme a minute."

Olivia froze a moment then ripped herself away from Elliot. "My God, I can't listen to you lie to her! Go. You should go!"

"I don't have to lie."

But she kept ramping up, flooded with the guilt she had pushed away all night, the guilt she had denied when she called him back here.

"I am so sorry! Please just go!"

"Liv, please stop! It's okay. Just give me a minute."

While Olivia braced herself against the wall and wrapped her arms around herself in a futile attempt to cover how very bare she felt, Elliot turned away and answered his phone.

"Hi Kath. What's up?"

Muffled words. Olivia fell apart.

"Yeah I remember. Probably not, but I'll be there on time."

More muffled words.

"Likely in town tonight."

Fewer muffled words as the call seemed to approach its end.

"I will."

From behind closed eyes – what she couldn't see, she couldn't feel – Olivia heard Elliott's phone slap shut.

"El, I have no right …"

"Olivia, please listen to me. I am free to be here and you need to know why. I would never have kissed you or even come back here if I wasn't."

She stopped and stared at him.

"I couldn't do that to you," he added.

Olivia considered his words for a moment.

"But she just called you. It's so late and you're not home. And for the first time ever, you're guilty of …"

"Please just stop. I am not guilty of anything. Is that what you think of me?"

"It's not you, it's me," she pleaded. "I forced this to start."

"Twelve years, Liv. You know me. You know I cannot be forced to do anything. I very much _want_ to be here. And now I can be."

"What do you mean?"

This wasn't at all how he wanted to have this conversation. But it was unavoidable now. It was his own damn fault for coming back here before he told her. And so he began to string together the words.

"Kathy and I ... aren't together anymore."

Olivia couldn't help but roll her eyes in disbelief.

"C'mon El, we've been down this road before. You will always be together, and I have no right to need you."

"Look at me and listen. We are _not_ together anymore. I moved out, and it's final. There's still some paperwork, but it's done."

Olivia wanted to believe him, wanted it to be true, so she could be selfish. But it didn't add up.

"But you were headed back to Queens?"

"But not to my … her house. I have a place there. It's close so I can help with Eli, but it's _my_ place."

Olivia was quiet. Guilt was morphing into, of all things, anger. She turned from him and paced her livingroom in silence. How could he keep this secret?

"Why? Why didn't you tell me?"

He sighed deeply and carefully considered how to tell her.

"Honestly Liv?"

"Yeah, I think honesty is your best bet here, El," she sputtered sarcastically.

"I didn't want you to fix it. I wanted it legal before you knew," he explained.

He continued gathering his thoughts.

"Then there was Quantico, and _this_ isn't really how I planned on breaking the news."

There was silence, and now Elliot was pacing. "Before this goes any further, you need to be perfectly clear, I am here because I very much _want_ to be."

He paused and, with his hands on his hips and his gaze directly on her, added, "Now I can be. I would never make you that woman, Liv."

She couldn't help the shame she felt.

"I guess I've behaved like I'm perfectly willing to be that woman."

"God Liv, please don't overthink. I'm pretty sure we're on the same page here."

She said nothing. He reached down and picked up his suit jacket. He looked at her, but she still refused to meet his eyes.

"I can turn around and leave here, if that's what you want. Or …"

She spun and finally faced him, as if ready for a fight.

"Or what?"

"You can come here. You asked me to touch you and I swear to you there is nothing I want more."


	8. Chapter 8

Olivia was suddenly speechless. She had punched through a passport of emotions tonight. Seconds ago she was alive with anger and now, with just a few words, Elliot had rendered her speechless.

Still with her arms in a half-hug around herself, she leaned back against the far wall of her livingroom and eyed Elliott.

He was patient, waiting out her decision. And she damn sure made him wait. After a few minutes of silent warfare from opposite sides of the room, she spoke.

"Well you sure know how to kill a mood," she offered, a modest attempt at humor as he anger waned.

Elliot, whose eyes had been examining every thread in the collar of the sport coat in his hands, slowly looked up at her, and the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. He wanted to outright smile, maybe even laugh a little, but he was walking a tightrope here. This moment was fragile. So was she.

Finally, after what seemed like endless silence, she pushed herself off the wall and started down the hall to her bedroom.

He'd lost her, dammit. "Fuck me," he thought to himself, as he turned his body toward the door.

Just then he heard her speak from the bedroom. Her words were firm, but her voice was soft.

"If you're coming in, your cell phone stays out there."

Elliot stopped dead in his tracks and threw his eyes upward, a silent prayer of thanksgiving to his Irish Catholic god. He tossed his jacket and phone onto the sofa and turned toward the bedroom, the steps he'd waited 12 years to take.

He approached the dimly-lit room and tentatively crossed the threshold. He'd only been this far into Olivia's world once before and under vastly different circumstances. He'd paced jealous steps around the room as Morales attempted to bug Dean Porter's phone. The seduction scene Olivia had staged on the sofa to divert Porter's attention had gone on far too long for Elliot's liking.

Tonight there was no Porter, no Morales and, for God's sake, no phones.

She was just standing there. Waiting.

He approached her slowly and studied her eyes. God, she was stunning. He slowly reached one hand out and let a few fingers grasp the belt of her robe. He gave it a slight tug, and the satin sash gave way. As she stepped toward him, the sides of her robe fell open a few inches, revealing the slope between her breasts, her navel, and the shimmer of her navy blue panties.

Elliot didn't stare long. He didn't want to waste time and lose her. He crouched low, almost to his knees and drew her bare midsection toward him. He placed gentle kisses around her navel, then dipped his tongue inside. She moaned and drew her left hand up to the back of his head, encouraging him.

He pulled his lips back and slipped his hands inside the robe to rest on her hips, caressing her abdomen with the pads of his thumbs. The movement caused the sides of the robe to part a bit further and fall open to reveal her bare breasts. Her hardened nipples and breathy gasps beckoned him.

Ever so slowly and with his hands still on her hips, Elliot drew his tongue up and over her left nipple. She shuddered at his touch. One more lick and he slid his lips across the part between her breasts and mouthed the fleshy mound of her right breast before repeating his action on her right nipple. His tongue was warm and soft against the rigid peak.

Olivia, struggling to remain upright, reached down for his tie and pulled him up into an open-mouthed kiss. She slipped his tie out of its knot and slid it out of his collar, discarding it on the floor. Although she didn't ask, he helped her with the buttons of his shirt, never removing his mouth from hers.

She ran her hands up his chest and pushed his shirt off his shoulders. His body was strong and warm, the same elements he brought to her life.

"I want you, Liv, so much," he breathed at her. "All of you."


	9. Chapter 9

He turned her away from him so he was behind her now. He slid her robe off of one shoulder and replaced the fabric with his mouth, kissing from her shoulder, across her clavicle, up her neck and under her ear. He laid a trail of warm, soft kisses the entire way before his breath was in her ear.

"I want to make you feel so good," he said. "You deserve to feel good."

"You already do," she told him.

"But not like this."

"You have," she confessed. "At least I've imagined you have."

The comprehension of her words went straight to his groin. He wrapped his arms around the front of her, pulling her snug against his body. She could feel his erection now pressing against her rear end.

She leaned into him, wanting as much contact as possible. She had been so tentative at the beginning but now she was all in. She leaned her neck back into his shoulder and turned her head to capture his mouth. One of his hands held her chin toward him while the other dipped lower to engulf her left breast. She moaned into his mouth as he thumbed her nipple and massaged the mound.

Olivia urged her hands to move. She lowered them to her sides and reached back to run them along his legs. Her ministrations were firm so she could feel the muscles of his thighs, the muscles that we're keeping them both upright.

"You're sure Liv?"

"God, yes."

Her answer and her soft sounds reassured him then. He allowed his right hand to take a cautious journey from her breast down across her abdomen until his middle finger slipped ever so slightly into the waistband of her panties. She shuddered and leaned further into him, both to feel him and to remain standing.

"It's okay, El," she offered. "Touch me please."

The robe feel from her other shoulder but didn't make its way to the ground, remaining trapped between their grinding bodies. Elliott kissed her neck, pulled his left hand around her stomach and slowly lowered the fingers of his right hand into her underwear. They passed over her warm skin and trimmed curls until just his fingertips finally touched her, really touched her.

"My God, Olivia, you feel good."

Elliot kicked off his shoes and toed out of his socks, his fingers never leaving her heat. He was gentle and cautious as he touched her for the first time, reveling that the pleasured moans falling from her lips were because of him. He dipped his middle finger lower until it breached her entrance, just the fingertip slipping inside. She jerked back against him and moaned.

When he pressed his front firmer against her back and his finger glided through her folds, he wasn't trying to divert attention to himself but she moved then, bringing her hands behind her up his thighs and across his zipper to his belt buckle.

"Elliot, please, I want to touch you too."

He slowly pulled his hand back up out of her panties, tonguing her mouth as he turned her in his arms. The robe fell now. He went to reach for his belt but her words stopped him.

"No let me," she smiled up at him. "It's been kind of a thing."

She held his gaze a moment then lightly kissed his muscled chest as her hands released his belt and dropped his zipper. He inhaled and held the breath, bracing for the moment he could never tell her he'd imagined so many times before.

Only one woman had ever touched him. And now the one he'd wished would for so long was about to. Olivia didn't rush but she didn't dally either. She wanted to feel him, skin on skin. She reached into the waistband of his boxer briefs and was immediately met with the warm head of his engorged cock. It was smooth, and the moisture gathered there made the descent of her hand on his shaft effortless. She cupped the underside of his cock as his tongue swirled in her mouth and his hands kneaded the ample mounds of her ass.

His pants felt from his waist and gathered at his ankles. He slid his hands around from her ass and down her hips into the sides of her panties. He pulled them away from her body and, as he'd done earlier, crouched before her to help her step out of them. He took one long, slow lick the length of her slit, holding her up as her legs began to give. He rose then to bring his mouth back to hers. She tasted the slightest tinge of herself on him and found it incredibly erotic. In many ways Elliott had always revealed parts of herself to her.

He stepped out of the pants balled at his feet, at the same time running his hands down the backs of her thighs and lifting her up until she brought her legs around his waist. He stepped back toward the bed and brought her down on him as he sat. She straddled him at the edge of the bed, her wet heat tempting him through his boxers. She kissed him hard before he lowered his head to lavish her breasts again. She clamped her eyes shut and threw her head back in pleasure.

He grasped her thighs again and rolled them so she was under him now. That's where he'd imagined her. That's where he wanted her.

His hips nestled between hers, and she felt his hardness pressing into her inner thigh. She reached again into his boxers and used a resourceful combination of her fingers and toes to lower them from his waist, over his hips and down his legs. He worked them the rest of the way off and nestled back into her. She touched him again, familiarizing herself with the smooth skin and inert strength of his cock. She hoped there would be time later, tomorrow, in the coming days to taste him. But not now.

He brought his hand to hers, which was still around him, and together they guided his cock to her entrance. His head parted her wet opening and every part of her felt this moment. She'd waited so very long, imagined it often and, at times, her fantasies had been so real she could have sworn she'd felt it.

But not like this. Nothing she imagined could be like this.

Her eyes closed instinctively so she could focus on their bodies coming together. Elliott pushed a little and began to slide into her. That moment, Olivia was sure, was the single most gratifying of her life. The sheer soulful power of it smothered the slight pinch of his invasion.

Elliot ran his hand up her cheek – a move he might consider patenting - and saw her closed eyes.

"Oh no, none of that," he urged, gesturing toward his own eyes. "I want you right here with me."

She opened her eyes to see him looking down at her, his elbows on either side of her shoulders and his torso above, essentially building a fortress around her body. It was the safest she'd ever felt.

"God, Elliot, please don't stop."

He pushed a little more then shifted his weight to the left, freeing her left leg a little. He reached behind her knee and drew her leg a little higher on his hip.

There. Now he was all the way in.

God damn this was everything.


	10. Chapter 10

Olivia was consumed with the moment. She took inventory of her current situation. Every part of her was alive, she was looking up into Elliot's eyes, and she was full of him.

"Is this really happening?" she asked him, looking into his eyes. "That's really you ... in me?

"Yeah ... I sure hope so," he smiled.

He kissed her softly and shifted a little, running his hands through her hair to pull it back from her face. He didn't want to miss a thing.

"So you just gonna hang around there, Stabler, or are you gonna move?"

This was good. The banter lightened the weight of the moment just enough to neutralize its power.

Elliot started slow with long thrusts, still growing accustomed to being in what he was sure was the most divine place on earth. In Olivia Benson's bed and inside her body. She was smooth and warm inside, and he had to move cautiously so this particularly ethereal moment wouldn't end as soon as it had begun. It had taken them 12 years to get here, after all.

Since Kurt Moss - a relationship snuffed out by Olivia's recognition of her feelings for Elliot - her bed had been empty. And while she was perfectly fine with calculating travel time from Queens to her front door, she refrained from measuring the years since she'd last been touched. That amount of time, however pathetic it might be, made this night with Elliott all that more gratifying. It was if she'd been saving herself for him. In reality she had.

As he moved above her and inside her, she couldn't help but let her eyes close. It's not that she didn't want to look at him - seeing him was critical to convincing herself that this was real - but it felt so damn good in so many ways that she simply had to give herself over to it.

He kissed her hard and swept his tongue through her mouth in a cadence measured by the movement of his hips. Her legs rode high on his waist, and he pressed as deeply into her as he could go. He rolled to his left and pulled her with him so now she was above him. She hovered over him kissing him as her breasts brushed against his chest.

"C'mon Liv, just let go."

She let his words register before pushing off of his chest and swinging her torso upright so she could settle even deeper on him. If there was any doubt he was all the way in before, there was none now. His presence and his penis were as powerful as the forearms he flexed over every interrogation room table. She threw her head back and pressed her hands flat against his abdomen as she rode him slow and deep.

Elliot had seen so many different expressions on Olivia's face today but this one - lost in him, above him - he was sure was his favorite. He'd spent so much time witnessing her pain, he savored seeing her pleasure.

Elliot rose from the mattress and brought his mouth to her breasts once more before rolling her again and reassuming his original position above her. His position inside her had not changed. He worked with more determination now, speeding his thrusts a bit and rolling his hips. She moaned gloriously and it fueled his fire even more.

"That's it," he whispered. "Feel me, baby."

The wave began in her lower belly and rolled through her and into every part of her that was currently wrapped around Elliot. She stiffened, arched under him, and cried out as she came. He lowered his mouth to hers and swallowed her cries as if he wanted to save them for her. He didn't want any of the good stuff to get away.

As the first waves subsided, Olivia returned her focus to the man above her and smiled. He knew. But that didn't sway him from seeking confirmation, affirmation.

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah," she breathed. "Most definitely, yeah."

He smirked then, proud that he had brought her to that place. He could turn his focus now to meeting her there. He was honorable, righteous and protective. But he was still a man.

Olivia dug her heels into the backs of his thighs. "Like that, El. Give it to me like that."

He growled and powered into his thrusts. She pushed back and met him halfway, creating a glorious collision.

"Liv, where ...?"

"Inside me, Elliot. I want to feel you."

It wasn't that she'd never had a man come inside her, though one was rarely worthy. But this man ... she wished he'd been the first. This was Elliot, and she wanted every bit of him. There was no other way to end this.

His urgency increased and she knew he must be close. She encouraged him with her words.

"God yes, Elliot."

His eyes closed now - breaking his own mandate - as he felt it build, roll through his shaft and into her. She felt him thrust, hold and grunt. Then warmth.

She could feel him everywhere. Around her, above her, inside her. She clung to him as the room fell quiet but for their breathing. His head fell to her chest. She turned her lips downward and kissed his head - not unlike the protective gesture he'd delivered with Italian food hours earlier.

He lifted his head and kissed her, still catching his breath.

"You good?" he inquired.

"I'm good," she huffed. "So, so good."


	11. Chapter 11

He rolled off of her to his right, roped his left arm around her waist and pulled her back against him.

"I think you're in trouble here, Stabler."

"How's that?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm gonna wanna do that again."

He chuckled. "I was married for 27 years, Liv. You have any idea how long it's been since I've done this twice in the same night?"

"Can't hack it?"

"Oh I'll hack it. I just need a minute. Or 20," he said. "Besides making you wait will only make you want it more."

"I don't think I could."

"Could what?"

"Want it more."

They were quiet a few minutes, linking hands in front of her and playfully toying with their intertwined fingers. It was a comfortable silence.

"It's been a crazy day to say the least," Elliott said.

"I liked the night part," she softly retorted.

"If you had told me this morning that tonight I would be here, I'd have driven you straight to Bellevue myself."

She laughed.

"It's so good to see you smile," he told her. "I mean, you're so gorgeous, but when you smile ..."

"I'm glad you came back."

"I'm glad you didn't kick me out."

"So why did she call you anyway? Still checking up on you?"

"Not really," he explained. "She has a standing appointment on Thursday mornings, so it's my day to get Eli to school. She just still feels the need to remind me. That's just Kathy."

"When did you move out?"

"Does it matter?"

"Since you're not answering me it must."

"You remember a while back, the last time we worked with that prick Porter?"

She was stunned. "You mean you moved out that long ago?"

"No but something happened during that case to convince me I needed to make my move."

"Which was?"

"That fucker pissed me off," he spoke louder now. "The way you looked at him pissed me off."

"Elliott ..." But she couldn't get a word in edge-wise.

"I know I had no right to be jealous but I was. It was too much fun pushing his buttons. But when I realized why I was pushing them, I knew I was just going through the motions at home."

"Nothing ever happened between Porter and me. I never slept with him."

"But you could have. I had no rights to you."

"I could have, yes. But I didn't want to," she paused and weighed whether to continue. "There hasn't been anyone since Moss."

Elliot was shocked. Pleased, but shocked.

"Why not?"

"Just let it go please. I'm exactly where I want to be. It took a while to get here, but I'm here."

There wasn't much more that needed to be said about that.

"So you know I have to get Eli early right?" he reminded her. "So if I'm gone when you wake up, that's all it is."

"Who said you could stay that long?" she ribbed him.

"I'm willing to earn my keep," he said, grinding against her rear end.

"Mmmmmm."

He kissed her shoulder and slid his left hand down to stroke her softly. She parted her thighs to allow one of his in between hers, essentially opening herself to him.

He gripped himself and guided his head to her entrance. She moaned and reached back to grasp his hip as he slipped inside. He held her close and made love to her from behind. Even though she could not see his face it was somehow more intimate than the first time.

It was slow and long. He could reach around and touch her. She could feel all of him behind her. When his fingertips joined his cock in a coordinated effort to please her, she trembled in his arms. And when he released inside her for the second time in an hour, she was spent.

The exhaustion she'd felt when she walked out of work that evening flooded over her again. But it was different this time. She felt no need to fight it or overcome it.


	12. Chapter 12

Six days later they attended Sonya Paxton's funeral. Elliot was stoic. Olivia fought back tears. She had done all she could to avenge her friend's murder - and those of 43 others - by locking up that piece of shit. Funerals were for the living.

The circumstances of their cases and the Stablers' custody arrangement had prevented them from seeing each other - personally anyway - since that first night in Olivia's apartment. So they laid low, kept their noses to the grind and pushed through six days as if nothing had happened. Except for a few stolen glances here and there. And on Thursday he hugged her goodnight.

But they both knew this wasn't a one-and-done kind of arrangement. In fact if Olivia had any inkling of pushing him away now, Elliott wouldn't go down without a fight.

"You know, I'd like to take you somewhere?" he said to her across their desks. Their best conversations always seemed to start here.

"Okaaaay. We've been driving around in that damn car all day so ..."

"Like take you out, show you a nice time. You deserve that."

"It's not necessary, El."

"Don't wanna be seen with me huh?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Are you being serious right now?"

"I know it's like doing things backwards but ... can I come over, pick you up, take you out to a nice dinner?"

"El ..."

"What's the big deal, Liv? Why is it so damn hard to accept that you deserve to be treated well."

"I've been taking care of myself for so long ..."

"Oh really?" he interjected. "And what about me? I've had your back for 12 years! Come to think of it, you owe _me_ dinner. So it's settled. Tonight 8 o'clock. And wear something nice because you're taking me someplace fancy."

He was such a pain in the ass. "You know I'm just as happy with takeout."

"I know. But not tonight."

Elliot walked the same path through her building he had six nights ago and stood outside the door at Apartment 4E. He remembered the anticipation he felt that night and shook his head. A part of him was nervous tonight too.

She opened the door with a smile. He wanted to smile back but was momentarily dumbstruck. She stood before him in a shimmering dark gray, form-fitting dress. Earrings dangled from her earlobes and her gray and lavender heels made her legs go on for miles.

"Wow."

Olivia smiled at his single word. It said everything. She leaned forward, placed her hand on his lapel and kissed him.

"I've missed that," he said.

"Me too. You wanna come in or ..."

Elliot thought better of coming in for fear they'd never make dinner. The whole point of tonight was to take her out. "If you're ready, we can make our reservations."

She grabbed her wrap and purse and stepped into the hallway. She walked beside him every day, but this simple journey down her hallway and to the car was different. For the very first time, they were more than partners, more than friends. She was still convincing herself that they were lovers.

They pulled up at Seviche' in SoHo in time for Elliot's reservations.

"This okay?"

"Yeah ... It's nice," she said, admiring the trees outside adorned in white lights. "Perfect actually."

"I heard _they_ have good bread too."

She appreciated his subtle humor and the kiss that followed.

"You know we really haven't had a chance to talk since ... the other night," he began when they were almost finished.

"So are we having the "morning after" talk now, she joked, setting down her wine glass. Her stomach clenched at the direction of the conversation.

He forked a piece of broccoli from her plate and continued. "Actually, I want to know how you're doing. With the whole Sonya thing, I mean."

"The funeral was rough, but it is what it is. We got him, and that has to be enough."

He finished the bite he was chewing and sat back in his chair to look at her. "And about that other thing. How are you feeling about that?"

"Still can't believe it happened," she confessed.

"Oh it _happened_."

Twice.

"I don't expect anything from you, Elliot," she said. "You were there for me. You're always there for me. This time it was just in a different way."

"Maybe that's how that night started, but it's certainly not how it ended. I was there for _me_ too."

"I suspected you enjoyed yourself," she quipped. Why was this conversation so hard for her?

"C'mon Liv," he said, trying to control his frustration. "Seriously. I'd like to maybe look into this a little more. That's if it's okay with you."

"Is that the detective in you talking?"

"Maybe. I am the curious type." Maybe meeting her with sarcasm would make this manageable for her.

"The answer is yes, Elliot," she said. "I would very much like to spend more time with you. Away from work, that is."

Now he wasn't nervous anymore.

"More wine?" he asked, raising the bottle they'd nursed.

"Actually, dinner was delicious." She paused, considering her words. "But I feel like maybe getting out of here."

"Anywhere in particular? We could drive over to ..."

But she cut him off. "Where's Eli tonight?"

"With Kathy. I had him all weekend."

"Then maybe we could take a ride to Queens."

He looked at her puzzled. She clarified. "To your place."


	13. Chapter 13

Maybe she was testing him. Trying to see if his marriage was really dead and buried deeply enough that he'd bring her into his own backyard. She'd been there as his partner, but never as more. Or maybe she really wanted into his world. Either one was a good enough reason to take her there. So he did.

She played with the radio and he laughed out loud when she started singing along to an REO Speedwagon song.

_"__You played dead.  
><em>_But you never bled.  
><em>_Instead you lay still in the grass.  
><em>_All coiled up and hiiiiiiiissin'."_

He cringed when she hit the high note. "Are you kidding me? _REO Speedwagon_?"

"Back in the day, this was my jam," she attested shamelessly. "I'm a sucker for a power ballad."

He eyed her and shook his head smiling.

"What?"

"You. There you are in that dress, looking so sophisticated and sexy, yet it took everything in you not to play air guitar just now."

"You could tell?" she toyed back.

"Yeah, Liv. I can always tell."

They talked as he drove and he never flinched, even as they turned left within two blocks of the house he once called home. She'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit that this was her way of putting him in the box and sweating him.

"So when did you move? Or move out, I mean?"

"Almost two months I guess."

"I gotta know, El. Why?"

"It wasn't fair to either one of us anymore. Kathy deserves more than sitting in that house waiting for me to come around, really be there. She needs a chance at a life that isn't based on what I can't give her."

"And you?"

"The house is almost paid off, I can still be in Eli's life this way … and I wanted to explore _this_," he explained, gesturing toward their joined hands on the seat between them. "I have for a while."

"Don't put that on me please," she pleaded. "Don't make _me_ the reason it ended."

"It needed to end either way, Liv. I just got lucky."

"The other night?" she teased.

"No. Twelve years ago." She was quiet the rest of the way.

He had the bottom floor of a modest duplex. It was a tree-lined street populated with houses a la 1959, the kind of place where a kid like Elliot would have grown up. He unlocked the door and showed her inside. "Like I said, it's pretty plain, a work in progress."

She surveyed her surroundings, the sparse furniture, the trucks and action figures in one corner, a photo of _them_ on the top door of the fridge.

She laughed as she lifted the Post-In note in the middle, revealing their hands with raised middle fingers, a six-year-old indiscretion from an overstayed welcome at a cop bar. "I can't believe you have this!"

"I love that shot. It's so us, like minds and all," he told her, tidying the kindergarten trappings strewn on the sofa. "But with Eli here I have to keep it under wraps a little."

Her eyes wandered the room, and then, as if she was satisfied, she brought them back to him.

He sat on the arm of the sofa and challenged her. "So do you believe me now?"

She feigned innocence at his question. _Bastard._

"C'mon Liv, we both know why we're here."

"I _am_ still pissed about this," she said waving a single finger around the room at the secret he'd kept.

"Shut up, Liv," he said playfully, stalking slowly toward her and pressing her into the door.

"But I'm gonna let you make it up to me," she flirted.

"Really now? And how's that?" His hands were on her hips now.

"Take me to bed," she whispered, fingering the open collar of his white dress shirt. "I need you."

Their lips collided then, almost in desperation. His mouth locked on her neck, and his lower half pressed against her, grinding slowly. He took her hand, tucked it under his arm and led her down the hallway, past a tiny bedroom and into his.

He moved behind her and slowly unzipped her dress, that fucking dress. He kissed the back of her neck, his fingers leaving a trail of what she was sure was fire as he lowered it off her shoulders and down her arms. How could she feel _this_ much?

The dress dropped to her feet and momentarily shrouded her shoes. Without breaking eye contact, she carefully stepped out of it. He fanned his lips across her collarbone and palmed her breasts through her bra. As she went to toe out of her shoes he whispered a protest.

"No. Leave 'em on. They're hot. I mean ... if you don't mind."

Olivia sat at the edge of the bed and drew him towards her. He watched her undo his belt and pants and look up at him briefly before lowering her mouth over him. He moaned as his eyes closed and his head dipped back. He ran his hands up the back of her neck under her hair, softly fisting it. Her mouth glided over him as her hands roamed his hips. He looked down at her and urged himself not to come.

She pulled back and, still stroking his shaft slowly, said, "I need you … inside me."

"Soon. We'll get there."

He pressed over her and lowered her back on the mattress, working his lips over her body, removing her bra then her panties as he settled his shoulders between her knees. After dragging his tongue along her inner thighs, he brought his mouth to the most private parts of her - of her body anyway. He teased her before penetrating her with his tongue and then his fingers.

With two fingers inside her and his tongue on her, she began to unravel. "God Elliott, I can't …" was all she managed to verbalize before her body shook. The feeling was so intense, so deep that, as it peaked, she tried to pull away from his mouth. But he wouldn't let her. He made her feel everything.

When she began to relax, he finished her with slow, careful licks and gently withdrew his fingers. He brought himself up her body, his warm, muscled chest rolling over her hips, her stomach and breasts before his eyes met hers.

He circled one finger on her skin, gently tapping her chest above her left breast. "Do I make you feel like that here too?" he asked.

Her remaining walls fell away and she felt no need to lie to him. So she told him the truth. "Yes," was all she said. It was all she needed to say.

"I wanna be with you, Liv. Always."

"Good." She smiled up at him. "Like minds and all."

She brushed his lips with hers as she guided him, aligned him. He reached behind her knees, drew her legs up high on his hips and sunk inside her. "Yeeeeessssss," she exhaled. "Like that."

He pushed himself up on his wrists and hovered over her, swinging his hips and arching his back so he could lean down and kiss her at the same time. She laced her arms under his and pressed her fingers into his shoulders. She felt his abs contract with every thrust, driving him deeper. He was all she could see and smell.

A few minutes later, he was under her, and she felt no inhibitions, no calculations. She rolled her hips over him. He dragged his hands up her body, bringing them both to her neck and pulling her mouth down to him. His tongue was everywhere in her mouth, his cock everywhere in her body. She grinded on him breathlessly, her eyes closed and her head rolling back as she pressed the heels of her hands into his torso and the heels of her shoes into his thighs. It was torture, sweet torture.

He let her work, let her take what she needed from him. He'd give her anything. She handled the up and down. He gripped her hips and added a little round and round.

For these moments she wasn't tired, she wasn't lonely, and she certainly wasn't empty. It's as if he had reached inside and gently nudged her soul to life. His mouth had been on her, his fingers inside her. But this feeling that was building, it was deeper. He was deeper.

"Oh God, Elliott, right there. You've got me so close."

He moved then.

Just a little.

Just enough.

_- Finis -_


End file.
